


No Fear of Fire

by thefairfleming



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Context HA!, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A PWP in which Dany and Jon talk dragons and heat of all sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fear of Fire

Jon wonders if there’s something wrong with him, that he should feel so drawn to women who could kill him so easily.

Ygritte had been dangerous, wildling to the bone, but soft in her heart, for all that she’d shot him with an arrow. Val had been more lethal still, her knives sharper than her tongue, her heart a colder, fiercer thing than Ygritte’s.

But the woman who lies curled against him now is the deadliest by far. She doesn’t need arrows or knives- she has dragons, and even as Jon noses the hair at her temple, he swears the smell of smoke and fire cling to her like perfume.

Sighing, Daenerys stirs in his arms, and Jon lets a hand skim over her hip. “I can hear you thinking,” she muses sleepily, and Jon smiles.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Mmm,” is her only reply, and Jon’s hand slides from hip to breast, her nipple stiff against his palm.

“Thinking that sharing your bed is a dangerous thing.”

She’s slightly more awake now. He can tell from the way she presses closer, her breath coming just a little faster. “Is it now?”

“You threaten to feed me to Drogon every time you’re cross with me,” Jon reminds her, and despite how soft and pliant she feels in his arms, Jon knows that she is anything but.

“And so I shall,” she says, a smile in her voice. “If you don’t please me.”

Snorting, Jon once again nuzzles the hair from her temple. “I didn’t please you tonight?”

“You did,” she agrees, rolling to her back. The fire in the brazier has burnt low, but her hair seems to glow silver even in the gloom of her tent. Jon braces himself over her, the muscles in his arms burning pleasantly as he lowers his head to brush the lightest of kisses over her lips.

“But you must keep pleasing me,” Daenerys adds, her hand coming to rest on his lower back, her fingers raising goosebumps on his sides. “Lest I have no choice but to feed you to the flames.”

Jon grins. “I am a dragon, too. Fire cannot kill a dragon.”

Dany’s eyes narrow even as a smile tugs at her mouth. “Shall we test that, then? Perhaps you’d like to ride Drogon in the morning. We’ll see how much a Targaryen you truly are, my lord.”

Sliding one hand down her flank, Jon catches Daenerys under her knee, pulling her leg up higher, opening her to him. She sucks in a quick breath, but other than that and the barest flicker of her eyelashes, she shows no reaction. “No need to get carried away,” he says, and that smile blossoms on her face.

“So you fear the flames then?”

He keeps his eyes on her face as the hand that was behind her knee slides over her inner thigh and up to the center of her where she is wet and hot.

“Heat does not frighten me, your grace,” Jon tells her, letting his fingers stroke and play. “In fact, I’m rather fond-,” he slides a finger inside of her, feels her clench around him, “of some heat.”

Dany’s hands come up to clutch his shoulders, her hips circling shamelessly against his hand. “That’s insolent,” she gasps, and Jon feels his grin widen.

“Is it? Forgive me, your grace. I’m just a bastard from the North. I don’t know how to talk properly to a queen when I’m touching her sweet-,” he adds another finger- “ _hot_ ”- his thumb finds that spot that makes her shake-”cunt.”

Daenerys presses her head back against the pillow, her neck arching, but she still doesn’t cry out. Jon has learned this about her. She’ll make him work for her cries and hoarse pleas to the gods.

It’s a challenge he is always happy to meet.

Sliding down her body, Jon shoulders her thighs apart, his tongue running over what his fingers still explore. He’s rewarded with a sharp tug at his hair, his name spilling from her lips like an admonishment and a prayer all at once.

“You even taste like fire,” he murmurs against her, and she laughs, a surprisingly girlish sound.

“I’m not sure a woman wants- _oh_. Oh, _yes_ \- to t-taste like smoke.”

“Not smoke,” he corrects before sucking at her again. “Fire.”

It’s true she feels hotter to him that Ygritte. Kissed by fire the wildling may have been, but Dany is flame itself. She tastes salty and earthy and so good that Jon could lap at her forever. She’s made him something he never thought to be: a supplicant. And while there are times he balks at being so very hers, right now, spread between her legs, he would happily submit to her rule forever.


End file.
